


The All-Clear

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, IbelieveinMarkDarcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2019-11-28 18:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: When you've got the all-clear to go, nothing will stop you. Almost nothing, that is.





	The All-Clear

**Author's Note:**

> #IbelieveinMarkDarcy
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my monkeys, but this particular circus is mine.

The enthusiasm he felt was, perhaps, not proportional to the news he got, particularly as he had just become a father for the first time not six weeks earlier. And as thrilled as he'd been by his new role, as much as he understood the reasons for the enforced abstinence… he really, _really_ missed his wife.

After hearing the news from her doctor, however, he understandably had high hopes for the evening. The child, the perfect little boy that he was, had thus far been a very good baby. He was not fussy, wasn't prone to crying, went down for his naps and stayed down. This would bode well for the evening, he thought.

He knew that after the pregnancy, the long labour and the birth, and the regular but exhausting middle-of-the-night feedings, she hadn't been feeling particularly sensual—even though she wore motherhood exceedingly, glowingly, _beautifully_ well—so he decided to pop out for a surprise for her, or rather, made a side trip while making a quick run to the shop for a pint of Ben & Jerry's (it was difficult to deny her small pleasures after the labour she'd endured). It was not difficult to choose a sexy nightie for her. He knew her size, her form, almost as well as he knew his own; he also knew what styles and colours she preferred, which luckily meshed with his own preferences. The pause at La Perla was a brief one.

She had just finished feeding the baby, had just gotten him to sleep, and was coming into the foyer as he came into the house. "Hi," she said, looking a little surprised, glancing between the two carrier bags he bore. "What's…" she began, then trailed off. "Is that a…"

"Yes," he said, grinning.

"…pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie?" she finished.

At this he laughed. "Yes. And a La Perla bag."

"An embarrassment of riches," she said, reaching and taking the bags from him. She peeked inside the La Perla bag, a brow raising before she glanced up to him with a bit of a smirk. "I suppose the ice cream can wait, hmm?"

He found himself smirking, too.

It was only dusky twilight but it was of paramount importance to take advantage of naptime, so after a quick trip to the freezer, together they ascended the stairs, diverted into the master suite, pausing for a moment to peek at the baby.

Then he put his hand on her shoulder, leaned down, and nuzzled into her ear.

"Mmm," she said, more like a purr than anything. "Let me at least enjoy your gift, hmm? And let you enjoy it, too."

He stepped back. "Far be it from me to argue."

She grabbed the La Perla bag, threw him another impish smile, then ducked into the en suite. He took the opportunity to slip out of his own clothes in anticipation. The room was already fairly dark on account of the baby; the only light in the room was the night light glowing from near the bassinette. It was more than enough for their purposes.

He pulled aside the sheets invitingly, then sat on the bed to wait for her. He did not need to wait long.

The en suite door came open, and out she slipped. The nightie looked gorgeous on her; peacock blue silk with a soft black lace and ribbon trim, fitted to her figure in a tantalising way. He looked at her face, at the smile that played on her lips, and he realised that she looked like she might burst out with a laugh. Without words, he asked what was funny by drawing his brows together.

"Things are a bit… snug."

It took him a moment to understand her meaning, especially as she stepped closer; the taut fabric across her bosom was just about at eye level. She reached for his hands, but instead he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to sit on his lap. He brought his fingers up to brush lightly against her face before drawing her towards him for a kiss.

Of course, he had kissed her since the baby had been born, but this was somehow different, more electrifying; perhaps it was enough to know that he would not need to pull away before things went too far. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers threaded in his hair, and she made soft, sweet sounds of pleasure into his mouth as he plied her with kiss after kiss. He brought a hand down over the smooth silk covering her side, to her waist, hip, backside; as his hand traversed the lower hem of the short nightie he heard her gasp. To his delight—but not really to his surprise—she wore nothing beneath the nightie.

She arched her back, swivelled to press her chest against his, raking her fingernails now along his shoulder before pressing her fingers in. He groaned at the sharp pleasurable pain that resulted, then turned her to lay her against the pillow. His hand passed over her backside, to her hip, to her soft inner thigh; his kisses migrated from her lips to her throat, her ear. She gasped an "Oh" as his fingers came up between her legs, gingerly teasing at first, then stroking with greater urgency.

He glanced to her, saw her biting down on her lower lip to restrain herself; his desire for her built as he continued his ministrations, fingertips lightly traversing inward, causing her to squirm.

She chanted his name in a very rough voice, begged him to take her, already, and he was in the process of shifting to make that connection when—

The building electricity of the impending climax of their re-consummation was shattered by the piercing wail that emanated from the small infant in the bassinette. Both adults froze; he drew back far enough to meet her gaze and saw that she looked both shocked and desolate. Never before had the baby shrieked in such a way, and without another moment's hesitation they scrambled apart. She leapt up off of the bed for the child. He followed, though took a moment to try to compose himself.

"Is he all right?" he asked, referring to the baby; he turned to look at her to see she'd picked him up to coddle him and stop the crying, which abated in volume to sobs and snuffles and finally, to silence.

"He's fine," she said. The image of her in the sexy nightie holding the baby was one that would stick with him for a long time to come. She bent over the bassinette again to get him settled back in, revealing her bare backside. He felt a bit guilty about the flare of desire he felt to see it.

"Now," she whispered. "Where were we?"

She came up close to him, slipped her arms around his neck as he took her around the waist, immediately launching into a kiss that reignited the passion and the desire he felt for her, and she displayed amply—the stuttering of her breath, the soft sounds and whimpers she made—that this feeling was mutual. He backed up to the bed, pulling her with him; they sank to the bed as he pulled the nightie up over her waist, then eagerly dipped his hand down between them, between her legs once more. 

She encouraged him with both quiet words and with body language, arching up into him. He turned them slightly so that she was beneath him again; it had taken him no time at all to come back to full attention, and was just about to thrust forwards when the silence was pierced once more by the baby's wail. Defeated, he moved to the side and she, once more, went to the bassinette's side, sweeping the babe up into her arms.

After a moment of examining him with furrowed brows, even as the baby quieted again, she said, "I'm not sure what's going on. He's not in need of a nappy, he only just fed, he's not feverish…"

"Perhaps he objects to a little sister or brother."

Her eyes shot up to meet his. "That is _not_ funny."

"You notice I am not laughing," he said, sitting up again. "Put him down, and come back to me."

"What if he cries again?" she said, looking torn.

"What if he doesn't?" he countered.

She stared a moment more, then turned, gently laid the child back down, and then turned back to her husband. She said nothing more, just got into bed beside him again, launching forward, bringing her lips to his. The spark of attraction leapt back to life as she pushed him back against the mattress. 

With her lying mostly atop him, his hands were free to roam across her back, fingertips tracing along her spine, down over her backside; his palms cupped her bottom, squeezed in a gentle massage. She broke the kiss with a gasp, and she moved her legs as if to straddle his thighs, brushing her own thigh against him, eliciting a long groan from his throat.

After the previous interruptions, he could not wait any longer. With a quick roll and shift, as well as a ravenous kiss, he thrust forward into her; she squealed into his mouth, which muted the sound enough not to wake the baby. Instantly satisfied that he had not in fact hurt her with this zealous action, he drove forward again and again, garnering a moan with each subsequent thrust. The desire, the anticipation and the long period of necessary celibacy meant that his trigger was very, very light, so it did not take long at all for him to find his release. She was close, too; that much was obvious, and he was not about to let her down. He carried on, bringing his fingers down to where their bodies met, determined to bring her to climax and then to sustain it as long as he could. The little muffled shriek deep down in her throat, the arching of her back, was followed by the tell-tale undulations. Her hand touching his was his cue to stop, and he kissed her again, this time tenderly, as he pulled her into his arms.

"Oh… truly, I have missed _that_ ," she whispered hoarsely, meeting every kiss with one of her own.

"Glad to be of service," he murmured playfully.

"And you hated every moment," she teased back, then sighed. "Thank you, angels and cherubs above, for allowing _coitus_ non- _interruptus_."

" _Completus_ ," he corrected lovingly.

She chuckled, then combed a lazy arc with her fingernails. "Not sure if I should take advantage of the quiet to grab a nap," she said, "or—" Before she could finish she was overtaken by a yawn, which descended into a bit of a giggle.

"Perhaps the nap," he said, "before a certain someone gets hungry again."

"Do you mean him," she said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the bassinette, "or you?"

He did not reply with words, only a smirk; it was best, he thought, to retain a certain air of mystery in a marriage.

_The end._


End file.
